


Get You All Alone

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boatsex, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: “You awake?” he asked, the hoarseness of his voice in that delicious Northern burr making her toes curl.Eyes fluttering shut, she tucked her arms beneath her, arching her back just slightly in a stretch. “Mm. Barely. Someone wore me out before,” she murmured with a small smile.She loved him, and it was becoming impossible to hold back the words every time he took her. Every time he held her afterward. She never wanted him to stop, she never wanted to see land again. Locked away in a secret part of her was a wish she could never, would never, admit out loud: She wanted to sail with him forever, wrapped in his arms, and Cersei and the Others could have the gods-forsaken throne.





	Get You All Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Boatsex redux, this time from Dany's POV, since I've written it already from Jon's POV. I wrote this in honor of boatsex anniversary :)

It’d been a while since Dany had slept soundly, and even longer since she’d slept so well with someone next to her—once she’d managed to fall asleep, anyway. So she was sure she only woke from her deep sleep when she felt the fur covers slip down her back, a callused hand following in its wake to expose her to the chill of the ship. Groggily, she cracked her eyes open, but, sprawled on her belly, she faced away from the perpetrator, her vision filling with the ornately carved door of her cabin. It was night out, the blackness of the sea darkening the portholes.

She stirred, shifting her feet restlessly and making a soft, sleepy sound of protest so he knew she was awake. Diving beneath the covers, his hand closed over her opposite hip; she felt him move closer, his body hot and solid and unyielding at her side. As he leaned over her, he nuzzled a kiss between her shoulder blades through the long curtain of her hair.

“You awake?” he asked, the hoarseness of his voice in that delicious Northern burr making her toes curl.

Eyes fluttering shut, she tucked her arms beneath her, arching her back just slightly in a stretch. “Mm. Barely. Someone wore me out before,” she murmured with a small smile.

She felt his lips curl with a puff of air against her back in a silent laugh. “Tell me the bastard’s name,” he growled with feigned outrage. She chuckled and played along.

“Jon something or another. He’s quite nice. You might like him.”

With a tug, Jon pulled the covers down past her arse, and she curled into herself more, pressing her face into her pillow. “Nice?” he repeated, trailing the palm of his hand up along the curvature of her spine, then he brushed her hair aside, baring her back completely. “Is that what you like? Could’ve fooled me earlier, what with all that screaming you were doing.”

Her eyes popped open, but she laughed despite herself. “You’re mistaken, my lord,” she said coyly. “How could I scream with your cock in my mouth? I think those were your own screams you heard.”

His hand landed on her hip again and squeezed roughly. As he moved against her, she felt his hard, thick length on her thigh. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t see him over her shoulder, but she felt him, his mouth lowering to her back once more. She shuddered as his lips and beard scraped over her vertebrae.

“Aye,” he murmured in easy agreement. “That was nice.” He fell quiet as he kissed a trail down her back. With a soft smile, she closed her eyes again, lulled into an exquisite stupor. His hand drifted lower, curving over her arse, where he gave one cheek a firm squeeze. Dany pressed her thighs together to relieve the mild pulse of desire between her legs, but already she felt her cunt grow slicker with every kiss, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty perspiration that had long dried on her skin. Jon took his hand off her arse and grazed the outside of her thigh, kissing the small of her back one last time before he brought his mouth to the swell of her arse cheek. She squirmed again, breathing out a quiet moan of appreciation as he kissed her plump flesh.

Abruptly, his teeth sank into her arse, and she squealed in surprise, her eyes flying open. She jerked her head up to throw him a questioning look over her shoulder. He laughed at her wide-eyed shock.

She glared at him. “Did you just bite me?”

He rubbed the spot where the faint indents of his teeth were already fading, then reverently kneaded her arse cheek. “Couldn’t help it,” he said simply, then crawled back up to her. She rolled onto her back beneath him, and he braced his arms on either side of her. “You have a lovely arse.”

Her heart fluttered like there was a small bird trapped within her ribs. It was hardly the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. Not even the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her. Still, she loved this Jon. She never would have guessed how playful, how wicked he could be. Out there, beyond her cabin door, he was a different man, wearing a different mask, almost as thick as his winter cloak. In here, with her, he felt safe enough to let down his guard and let her in, allowed her to truly see him. It filled her with wonder and awe–and with trepidation, too, as if she might accidentally break this beautiful treasure if she were too careless with it.

“A lovely arse?” She tried to mimic his thick accent, and he appeared amused by her attempt. “Is that any way to speak to your queen?” She reached up to caress her hands over the bunched muscles of his shoulders. His dark, lidded eyes glimmered in the low lighting of her room, illuminated by the still-burning fire in the brazier. His breath was warm on her face, and on it, she could smell the faint tang of her cunt’s nectar. She blushed lightly, thankful for the dark. Even the memory of how he’d slipped down between her thighs to taste her made her wet. No man had ever pleasured her in such a way, so determinedly, so selflessly.

“You didn’t seem to mind before,” he rasped, his voice deep and gravelly. “Don’t turn shy on me now.”

She combed a hand through his loose, silky curls, and he closed his eyes briefly as her nails scraped over his scalp. “Why don’t you see for yourself just how shy I’m feeling right now?” she suggested, raking her fingers down through his beard. His eyes flashed molten-hot, and the pink tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Her gaze snagged on the movement, and she parted her own lips in response. Jon eagerly accepted the invitation, dropping his mouth to hers in a hungry, searing kiss. There was no preamble, not like their first kiss only hours before–this was a continuation, as if he were picking up where they’d left off, his tongue in her mouth, stroking, touching every part of her. Earlier, they’d kissed on and off through their bouts of lovemaking—because of course there’d been more than just the once—never really stopping, never really starting.

Dany loved the taste of him, the unapologetic hint of her cunt that lingered on his tongue, the abrasive brush of his beard on her chin and cheek. Tomorrow, she would be pink in all the places he’d kissed her. Her gut tightened in excitement at the thought of wearing his love like a badge of honor.

Bearing his weight on one elbow, Jon skimmed his other hand down her side, over the swell of her breast, down the slope of her waist, and across the small hill of her pelvic bone. His knuckles grazed the inside of her thigh as he moved his hand between her legs to test her readiness. As his fingertips touched the glossy wetness of her petal-silk folds, he groaned into her mouth, kissing her more fiercely. His fingers probed her opening, and he glided his fingers up and down her slit, beckoning her honey to flow forth at his expert touch. Mixed with it, she knew, were the remnants of his seed, the mess he’d left between her thighs, unabashed and unconcerned. Perhaps he’d merely taken to heart what she’d told him in the dragonpit. Or perhaps he simply thought, _to hell with the consequences_.

Perhaps…oh, perhaps…

Dany gasped when he touched the swollen pearl at the apex of her cunt, her hips lifting with each stroke of his fingers. She opened her legs to him, breaking away from his demanding mouth to give voice to her pleasure, the tightening and coiling of anticipation deep in her belly making her louder and oblivious to the sleeping needs of everyone else aboard their ship. Jon latched onto her neck, her collar bone, her breast, sucking wherever he could reach as he brought her to shuddering release. She gasped and trembled, Jon mouthing at the stiff peaks of her nipples as she came sending her into another spiral of pleasure.

Once her quaking thighs had relaxed, Jon tugged at her nipple with his teeth before releasing it, kissing back up her neck. “That was fast,” he commented. She heard the amusement in his words, though his voice was strained with his own desire.

She turned her face into his, once again stroking his hair. “It’s been a while for me,” she said, almost shyly.

“Only a few hours,” he replied, moving in between her legs. She nipped his earlobe between her teeth, not missing his self-satisfied grin.

“You know what I meant.”

His hand slid up her thigh then down again, hooking under her knee to lift it. She brought her other thigh up to cradle him between her legs, thrilling at how his coarse pubic hair, the little trail that arrowed between his navel and cock, rubbed against her belly, the way his cockhead kissed her nether lips as he positioned himself.

“You know, it’s all right to let a man know he pleases you,” he groused good-naturedly as he slipped his hand between her arse and the bed, lifting her into him. Dany wound her arms through his to grab his back, dragging her hands down the flexing muscles to his firm arse.

“If you don’t know that by now, I’m not sure how much clearer I can make it.”

Jon was already pushing into her, his cock sliding easily into the tight channel of her cunt made slick from her arousal. Still, they’d fucked a few times already that night, rough and fast more times than not, and she gritted her teeth to stave off a reflexive wince as he stretched her sore inner muscles. But Jon was nothing if not attentive.

“All right?” he asked, and she bit her lip, nodding.

“Tender,” she breathed against his cheek on an exhale.

For the first time since entering her cabin, he seemed uncertain. “Should I stop?”

She shook her head. Despite the discomfort, she loved the way he filled her, loved his cock inside her, the hardness of his thighs on the backs of hers, the firm, shapely curve of his arse in her hands as she pulled him into her. She never wanted him to stop, wanted him to give her everything, wanted him to take everything she had to offer.

“Don’t you dare, Jon Snow.”

The briefest hint of a smile, a flicker of fire in his kind and lovely eyes, then he kissed her again, his tongue moving in a way that suggested the way his cock would move inside her next. Slow, shallow thrusts, just a gentle teasing, until she was canting her hips and squeezing her thighs into his sides, begging him to take her harder as she would spur her horse into a gallop, or Drogon into flight. The ache had faded, replaced with a wrenching need to be sated and used, to be filled with his seed. She clutched at his back and arse, gasping. “Jon. Jon.”

He grunted into her neck, breathing hard as he fucked her, squeezing her arse in his hand as he slammed his hips into hers. She was sopping and swollen where his cock entered her; her heart beat hard and fast, thundering in her ears louder than the wet sounds of their mating. She was wild with pleasure and need, raking her nails down his back, slipping in and out of Valyrian and Dothraki and the Common tongue—fuck me, love me, take me, harder, don’t stop, don’t stop!

It was mindless and wanton and completely alien to Jon’s ears. But she’d quickly learned that commanding him in foreign tongues seemed to make his blood run hotter, and despite not knowing the words, he understood the meaning, the urgency of her tone; he would take her harder, faster, splitting her open and plunging into her cunt until she was screaming, until he was coming and spilling inside her, until he was almost as loud as she was, howling like the savage wolf he tried to hide.

She loved it; she loved him, and it was becoming impossible to hold back the words every time he took her. Every time he held her afterward. She never wanted him to stop, she never wanted to see land again. Locked away in a secret part of her was a wish she could never, would never, admit out loud: She wanted to sail with him forever, wrapped in his arms, and Cersei and the Others could have the gods-forsaken throne.

With a gasp, Jon spilled into her, going still in her embrace save for the gentle rocking of his hips against hers, the pulsing of his cock with every spurt of his seed. She held him close as she caught her breath, burying her face in his neck and murmuring soothing words of nonsense. He was damp with sweat, their skin sticking and sliding together. He smelled like sex, like the spill of his seed and the aroma of her own want for him. Her belly clenched with a feral need she’d thought she’d nearly extinguished. She clenched her cunt around him, milking his cock of the last of his issue, and he groaned and jerked inside her, pressing into her as deep as he could.

After, with his release still damp and sticky on her thighs, he pulled her into his arms, his body molding around hers possessively. He stroked her hair off her face, trailing his fingertip over the shell of her ear.

Dany felt herself drifting off under his gentle ministrations when he asked, “What was it you said to me a moment ago? At the end.” He struggled with the words, butchering most of it as he repeated her words back to her, “Ivestragī…ñuha, ñuha…maz—mazverdagon…?”

But she understood him, and the reckless words she’d whispered in his ear as he filled her. Please, let my womb quicken.

A shameful flush crept from her belly to her face, and she swallowed against the unexpected tears. She just shook her head and cleared her throat, twisting in his arms to face him. She gave him a small smile, settling back in his embrace. He pressed his hands to her back. “You’ll never learn Valyrian if I have to explain everything to you,” she teased, deflecting artlessly.

He snorted. “I think my old maester at Winterfell would disagree with your methodology.”

“Well, somehow I managed to learn without a maester,” she said tartly, but only in jest.

“Aye.” He studied her, his thumb sweeping up and down the line of her spine. The humor of the moment faded, and she blinked at him, unsure. “Tell me more about that.”

She went still. They hadn’t delved into her past, or his, not really, not yet; they’d only scratched the surface of their lives before this moment. “You want to know about that now?” she asked quietly.

He looked deadly seriously—and as terrified as she felt. “I want to know everything about you, Dany.”


End file.
